


Two Player Game

by Razikale



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Girl Penis, Masturbation, Table Sex, Trans Sombra (Overwatch)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-27 07:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12076587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razikale/pseuds/Razikale
Summary: There are a hundred ways to lose and no chance to win. That means the only option is changing the rules.





	1. Fight!

**Author's Note:**

> Quick explanation and apologies:  
> \- I'm sorry to any of you that speak/understand Korean if I've absolutely slaughtered the language. All the lines came from online resources. Also, sorry that everything Hana is saying in Korean is rude.  
> -One of the fun quirks in D.Va's character is her use of other game quotes. Watch for symbols like * or ˟ to signify a quote and you can see where it came from in the end notes.  
> -Blizzard owns Overwatch and everything affiliated.

Watchpoint Gibraltar was fuller than it had been in years. There was bustling activity, life and noise in almost every wing of the facility. Comforting as all the extra bodies were, it also meant things had gotten a bit crowded. The damage from Talon’s attack wasn’t fully repaired, so everyone was bunking two to a room and staking their claim in communal areas.

Zarya had completely taken over the gym without anyone arguing. Hanzo and Jesse preferred the shooting range. Who knew an archer and gunslinger would end up fast friends? There were suspicions that the two played a very strange version of cowboys and Indians when no one was watching. Genji and Zenyatta were always in the gardens being zen while Torbjorn was the exact opposite, down in the mech shop banging away on Bastion and cursing like they were an old married couple. Mei and Winston each had their own labs that they barely left unless Athena set off a fire alarm.

Angela was in the infirmary of course, usually patching up both the Amari women after another ‘family bonding session.’ Ana _probably_ knew her daughter best, but it was hard to believe those sparring matches were healthy for the lingering resentment that kept Fareeha’s temper on a hair trigger. The mess hall was often a safe place to relax, but tonight Reinhardt was in the kitchen cooking up some dish he called kapusníak that called for enough sauerkraut to qualify as chemical warfare.

Tonight, the quietest spot was the rec room. Lucío was strapped into some oversized headphones, one foot rhythmically tapping to the beat and so zoned out he wouldn’t notice a mech ripping the roof off. Fortunately for him, the resident mech pilot was glued to her game screen rattling off trash talk and triumphs in an indecipherable blend of Konglish and squeals. Tracer was taking advantage of the relative peace to enjoy a frosty ale and the sort of phone conversation that took place in subdued murmurs and furtive smiles.

The first sign that there was trouble in their corner of paradise was an explosive string of Korean erupting from Hana.

“ _Gaettong gat-eun soli!_ ” The gamer leapt to her feet and tore from the room, streaming angry curses all the way down the corridor.

_“That didn’t sound good.”_ The voice on the other end of Tracer’s phone reminded her she was in the middle of a conversation, her mouth hanging open while she stared wide-eyed after Hana.

“No, but it’s been happening a lot more lately.” The Brit strained to listen with her other ear, using the profanity sonar to track her friend’s storming return.

Hana burst back into the rec room, tablet in one hand and her face dangerously flushed. Her innocent gaming console was snatched off the floor and she ripped all the cables out, muttering the entire time.

“Gonna pwn you to the next century. No reboot, _changnyeo_. I don’t want your damn lemons*! ” The snarl in her voice was much worse than just losing a PVP match. Everyone knew what D.Va was like when she lost. This was bigger than a game. This was _personal._

After deactivating and tearing apart her entire system she grabbed the tablet and went straight to her streaming channel. Tracer couldn’t see exactly what she was looking at, but all of Hana’s games tended to look alike to her. What definitely wasn’t right was the noises.

_“What’s going on?”_ Impatient curiosity demanded in Tracer’s ear.

A sound of pure, infuriated anguish drowned out anything the slipstream pilot could say. Hana threw the tablet aside and stomped from the room, her fists balled for a fight that wasn’t even here.

“Nerf this! _Michin yeoja._ _Naneun geunyeoleul jug-ilgeoya!_ Going to burn your house down—with the lemons*!” This time the ranting faded into a slammed door and the room was left bathed in silence once more.

“Just a hunch, but I think Sombra’s hacked D.Va’s channel again.” Tracer couldn’t help chuckling as she climbed off the couch and grabbed the abandoned tablet with her spare hand.

“ _Your Korean is that good now, is it?”_ An answering laugh echoed back to her.

“Oi! I’ve been paying attention! Listen to this,” she cleared her throat like a kid about to go on stage, “ _Ah, jot-gat-ne._ ”

_“Very impressive. What did you say?”_ The approval sounded surprised and impressed; mostly surprised.

“Hell, if I know. I just hear it a lot,” Tracer shrugged, settling back onto the sofa to explore the latest offense. “Best I can tell, it means someone’s about to get their arse kicked.”

_“What makes you so certain it’s Sombra?”_

Tracer made a noncommittal hum, swiping the tablet back on and opening D.Va’s channel. The livestream had been turned off but it only took a moment to find the last ten minutes of active play. There was lots of fast-paced violence, fists and weapons and things going boom in the background. Except they weren’t going boom. All the sound effects had been replaced with old cartoon noises. A building in the distance collapsed, making the crash of a piano falling downstairs. Gunfire became the incessant chiming of off-key bells.

“Ooooh, no, this is _absolutely_ Sombra’s work,” Tracer cackled, slapping a hand over her mouth to hold back a belly laugh when D.Va unleashed her signature attack to the sound of a spitting Tasmanian Devil.

_“That will be the second time this week.”_ A sigh crept out of the phone, equal parts disbelief and irritation.

“Seventh this month.” Tracer nodded, setting the tablet aside with a mental note to copy the files before Hana could delete them.“She shouldn’t have insulted Sombra on her feed during our last fight.”

_“What was it again? ‘A Metal Gear solid reject?’”_ Even trying to repeat the insult seriously was impossible.

“’Node-nippled,’ don’t forget that part. Bugger. This isn’t ever going to stop, is it?” Tracer let her head fall back onto the couch cushions, wincing when she also hit a good chunk of wall.

_“Perhaps the next time they meet on a mission will help to clear the air. Or fill it with smoking debris.”_ The spirit of an amused shrug came through the words.

“Either way, think I’ll steer clear for a bit. Speaking of which,” Tracer’s voice dropped to a coy murmur, “You free this weekend?”

_“For you? Bien sûr, cherié.”_

_***         ***         ***         ***         ***         ***         ***         ***_

Everyone said pink was too feminine. Too young. Too six year old girl with butterfly clips in her hair and glitter on her face. Not at all appropriate for a two ton, state of the art weapon of war. But this weapon of war’s pilot still had her butterfly clips (and was occasionally tempted to put glitter in her face stripes) so It. Was. PINK.

“Baddies at 3 o’clock. Gone now!” D.Va giggled happily as her mech plowed up through the narrow streets. Constant assault fire pinged and ricocheted around her on all sides.“Using pellet rounds? Psh, these guys never learn. Sonic Boom _ꜛ_!” One huge swipe of her canon arm took out a barricade and sent the enemies behind it scattering.

A quick glance at her dash confirmed that her fuel, ammo and armor integrity were still at peak levels. Oh, and another 47,000 people were following the live feed! D.Va would’ve clapped happily if she weren’t so busy blowing a hole in the building where a sniper had hidden.

“ _Anyoung_ and welcome to anyone just joining in! We’re taking care of some thugs up to no good in Cairo. Ground team is Bastion, 76 and everyone’s favorite cowboy.” Her side camera panned to catch a quick glimpse of Jesse executing a dodge and roll without ever losing his hat. “In the air are both birdmoms and I’m out here clearing the path.”

The constant flow of her narration didn’t even hiccough when a heavy canon blast hit the mech’s legs. “Oh, getting feisty! I’ll show you a thing or two about how to kill someone˚,” she’d repeated the line often enough that even her chuckle turned wicked, “If you’re not enjoying it, you’re not doing it right˚!”

A dash forward and she plowed into the heavy artillery, sending it and all the gunmen flying.

“Toastyˆ!” D.Va licked her finger and made a sizzling noise in the air, marking another point on the invisible scorecard. The adrenaline and pride of actual battle was the only thing better than games. Out here being the best didn’t just make her heart race, it made a difference. She might be the only one keeping score but everyone knew when it was a win.

Blinking alerts painted the interior of the cockpit a panicky red. A dart of fingers instantly switched her stream to external view only. Not good to let the audience see a malfunction. Last time that happened the MEKA people had absolute fits. Errors were going off in cascade on both sides, a silent, flashing riot gaining speed and numbers. D.Va’s brow furrowed so hard it threatened to give her a headache, toggling through diagnostics and cursing right before she switched to the team com.

“I’m getting red lights on my hydraulics. _Son of a submarinerˇ!_ ” The cockpit gave a violent lurch, slamming her head against the glass hard enough to make her ears ring. “I’ve lost all forward mobility!”

“Look out, kiddo, you’ve got a hitchhiker.” McCree’s crackling voice offered only cryptic warning.

Hitchhi-? The mech was outfitted with cameras for nearly 360 coverage and the moment D.Va switched to rear view she found her problem. All her problems. Sombra was clinging to the back of the suit, an interface hand spreading glowing threads of corrupt command directly into the machine. The purple-haired hacker’s nefarious smirk was disrupted by the movement of her lips, mumbling to herself. On instinct D.Va activated the closest external mics, her cockpit immediately filling with a distracted, melodic voice.

“ _—racha,  
Ya no puede caminar.”_

She was singing. There was a deliberately childish sound to the tune, conjuring visions of hoarded candy and playground games.  A surge of affronted, righteous anger rose behind D.Va’s eyes. All of the insults and tricks of the last month merged together into a single, overwhelming sense of _finally._

“You picked the wrong ride, hack.” A dark smile crossed her lips, engaging the thrusters. “Bunny hop!”

Cushioning molded tight to her back from the force of the sudden launch, holding her snug as the mech shot straight up.  The MEKA crew wasn’t exaggerating about those upgrades! A tight grip on the controls let her twist into a dizzying spin, performing a corkscrew that would have seasoned jetfighters puking.  She leveled off, quickly searching her screens in hopes of finding a smear of purple and maybe a few glowing fingers still stuck in the seam of her suit.

Instead, there was that familiar smirk. Sombra was looking right at her, piercing blue eyes fixed on the camera, cold and sharp as diamond.

“Show’s over, chica.” One arched brow gave a telltale twitch and purple light swallowed D.Va’s screens, fading to dead black. The live stream was cut. Her com to the team was gone too, no matter how hard and quickly she mashed the button over and over like an unresponsive elevator. A mild hint of alarm mingled with the rage tightening her throat. There was no sound in the cockpit other than that faint, half-sung half-whispered melody plucking her nerves.

“ _Porque no tiene,_  
_Porque le falta,  
__Una pata de atras.”_

Pure, wordless fury spit past D.Va’s lips. The controls shuddered and bucked in her hands as she yanked the mech into a crazed frenzy of contortions. Thrusters angled every which way, her weaponized arms flailing at the back of the suit. From the ground it had to look like the famous pink MEKA suit was infested with fleas.

A heavy vibration on the right canon promised she’d finally connected and D.Va let out a squeal of triumph. Without monitors she pressed her face as close to the glass as she could, straining to look in every direction for the obnoxious woman’s plummet to Earth.

“ _Hola, coneja._ ” A sultry accent breathed into her earpiece at the same moment Sombra’s smug grin appeared. She wasn’t falling.  She was leaning against the cockpit, her head propped up in one hand as if it were her favorite bar counter.

“ _Mwoya sibal!_ How?!” D.Va’s cry ached from the raw sting of shock and frustration.

“I magnetized my translocators. _Nada mal, ¿si?_ ” Sombra tapped her foot once, dragging D.Va’s eyes to the unmistakable glow of a parasitic little toy stuck right on her canon arm. One hand flew for controls to jettison the compromised part but purple lines were already streaking across the dash and infecting her system, painting the entire cockpit in neon shadows.

“Fine, you’re so attached to this mech?” Spiteful glee crept into D.Va’s smile, one finger flipping the switch for auto self-destruct. “Have it!”

Air whipped and stung her face from the speed of ejection, the miniature thruster pack instantly achieving maximum velocity to put distance between her and the imminent explosion. The power and noise drowned out any chance of noticing the _thunk_ of a piece of metal latching onto her jetpack right before the mech blew itself to pieces. For a few heartbeats, D.Va managed to surf the shockwave before it knocked her from the air like a stunned bird, sending her to the ground to crash and roll. Sand was everywhere; in her mouth, eyes, hair, even magically appearing inside her skintight suit in that way that guaranteed a week of showers wouldn’t be enough to get it all. Worth it though, if it meant that psycho was at least singed in the crash.

“ _La cucaracha, la cucaracha._ ”

The same song. That same impish, nonsensical refrain taunting her from only meters away. D.Va grabbed both her guns, aimed for Sombra in a blink.

“Seriously?” Sombra’s lips quirked up on one side, her tone already halfway to laughter.

Most people fell into the trap of thinking D.Va was only dangerous with her suit. They were the same people that didn’t understand the long and rich history of FPS games.

“It’s time to kick ass and chew bubble gum˟.” A calm settled in D.Va’s chest, the eye of a hurricane. “And I’m all outa gum˟.”

The first exchange of shots quickly sent both women scurrying for cover, turning the dangerous firefight into a lethal game of hide and go seek. That was one great thing about Cairo, always lots of ruins for hiding behind. Sombra’s rapid fire machine pistol sprayed three bullets for every shot D.Va squeezed off but it was sloppy, kicking up chipped stone shrapnel and choking clouds of sand. D.Va’s weapon was slower but she had the cool accuracy that only comes from thousands of hours of simulated violence. Her clip wasn’t even half empty when a sweet shot sent Sombra’s weapon flying.

“Ha! That’s for ruining my live feeds all month!” D.Va gloated, leaping up in triumph. A premature celebration she immediately regretted when Sombra vanished into stealth. She bit back a squeak of fear, diving behind cover and cursing the hacker’s tech.

“Ruining, chica? Please. The buffering screen is more exciting than those games you play. _Ayudé a hacerlos interesantes._ You should be thanking me.” Sombra’s voice slipped and glided around the ruins, a zephyr playing over stone.

Everything about the reply drove spikes into D.Va’s spine, made her fists curl and fingers twitch on each trigger. The lazy condescension, the bored insults, the indecipherable bits of Spanish!

“I don’t speak taco,” D.Va snapped out at nothing. If she concentrated she could almost track her opponent by the constant sound of breathing that teetered on the cusp of laughter.

“Oh, _lo siento._ I’ll switch to sushi.” Sombra’s mocking tone flashed fangs that D.Va couldn’t see.

“I’m Korean!”

“So? Racism is always ignorant,” the hacker’s scoff said everything else.

D.Va felt her cheeks burning, furious at being counseled on morality by a criminal whose ethics and sanity fell somewhere south of GLaDOS. Confused and angry that she’d be drawn into this ridiculousness. Of all the things they could be arguing about, how did it end up being this?  How did this damn woman keep getting under her skin and pushing buttons she didn’t even know existed?

“I don’t care if you think my games are boring! It’s serious business for me.  I have 127 million followers!” (Which wasn’t quite so impressive when you knew Korea’s population was over 70 million people alone). “I have sponsors!”

“So I see.” The chuckle came from right next to D.Va, making her yelp and jump backwards from a suddenly uncloaked Sombra.

A swift lunge and the hacker’s augmented hands tore the pistols from D.Va’s grip, flinging them off into the endless abyss of sand. They were both unarmed now, but the silent challenge of Sombra’s cocked brow felt like a weapon. No mech, no guns, alone with a woman notorious for knowing everyone’s secrets. D.Va kept her jaw tight and gaze steady but it wasn’t just the wide open desert on all sides making her feel exposed.

“Sponsors,” Sombra repeated, a calculating gaze sweeping over D.Va’s clothing. One hand hovered just beyond touching the logos emblazoned down the gamer’s thigh. “And such wonderful companies to represent! This fine corporation shuts down or sues anyone that publishes negative reviews. THIS one steals all their material from smaller companies and then claims copyright. These people,” her hand brushed the emblem just above her knee, sneering just a little less. “They’re good, I suppose. Lasted longer than most. A little clichéd, though. And you let all of them own you.”

“That’s not how it works.” D.Va swatted at the fingers touching her thigh; blaming surprise for the fact that she didn’t do it sooner.

“They give you money and you give them your body. There are _muchas_ words for that,” Sombra’s voice danced with delight, her smile cruel at the edges. “What’s the going price, chica?” The hacker’s entire face flipped faster than a screen changing channels, excitement electrifying her eyes like a child spying new toys. “I have a logo that would look _totalmente perfecto_ on you!”

“You can’t afford it.” D.Va kept her chin high but the haughty tone felt weak, too much like a hope and not fact. Sombra’s grin was a shark scenting blood in the water, all sharp teeth and killer instinct.

“Want to bet? Money is all ones and zeroes now. Those are numbers I can make dance.” A gloved and augmented palm opened inches from D.Va’s nose, mini-holoscreens flickering and twirling with every twitch of Sombra’s fingers.

“Why would you?” A choke of frustrated helplessness caught in D.Va’s throat; the paralysis of no ammo, no lives left and the last of her health about to be KO’d. She prayed the sting in her eyes was from sand, not tears. “Why would you do any of this?”

For the first time, Sombra was caught off guard. Her brow quirked up in surprise. With a flourish the mini-screens vanished and her focus was strictly on D.Va, a crystal blue gaze that tore past any armor. They weren’t far apart but the hacker moved closer, looming over the smaller woman until D.Va could see flashes of purple lurking in the depths of her eyes.

“Because, _conejita_ , these are the games I like.” Sombra’s coffee voice dragged out her syllables, rolled and hissed each sound until D.Va forgot the shape of the words but knew every meaning.

Then she was gone. Not just leaving, completely vanished; as if she’d never been there at all. The only evidence she left behind were footprints in the sand and a humming melody on D.Va’s com.

_Las muchachas Mexicanas_  
Son lindas como una flor,  
Y hablan tan dulcemente  
Que encantan de amor.

The childish, singsong quality was gone from her voice now. This was an octave lower, a purr of velvet and smoke that sent a shiver all the way to her toes. The song was fading with each word until D.Va realized she was holding her breath trying to catch the last of it.

_La cucaracha, la cucaracha,  
_ _Ya no puede caminar._

Then that was gone too, the channel emitting a sharp burst of tortured feedback that made her cringe.

“D.Va, report! D.Va, come in!” Jack’s voice broke over the channel so loud she grabbed her ear as if that would help instead of making it worse.

“D.Va here, team leader. No threats or targets.” She spotted and retrieved her pistols, trying to place the thread of annoyance wound so tight through her nerves.

“Transponder shows you two clicks southeast of the engagement zone. What happened?” The old soldier’s veins were probably popping on both sides of his neck.

“I’m fine. I got—,” D.Va hesitated, flashing through all the possible answers at once. Attacked by a hacker, lured away from the battle by a crazy Latina, manipulated into destroying the mech. Played. “I got it handled. Can I get a transport?”

“Roger that, D.Va. Pharah will bring you to rendezvous.” Jack didn’t even close the com before barking orders to the blue rocket.

“Copy.” D.Va closed the line and slumped onto a pile of crumbling stone. Played. By a hacker no less. Fuming resentment filled her head, staring off to the empty horizon until an inevitable sense of numbness crept up and washed everything else away. Defeated.

She closed her eyes, a bitter taste on her tongue twisting into words on a weary sigh, “Our princess is in another castleꜞ.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions and corrections are all welcome. Particularly if someone seems OoC.
> 
> If you'd like to see the translation of Sombra's song it's here:  
> http://www.pamrotella.com/polhist/lacucaracha.html  
> However, I did use the sanitized chorus that children would know.
> 
> For D.Va's game quotes:  
> * - Portal 2  
> ꜛ - Street Fighter 2  
> ˚ - Street Fighter X Tekken  
> ˆ - Mortal Kombat II  
> ˇ - Final Fantasy VI  
> ˟ - Duke Nukem  
> ꜞ - Super Mario Bros. (But I really hope everyone knew that one)


	2. Grind

Fluff_Bomb17? Really? Hana’s eyes kept creeping away from the battle and over to the corner of the screen with her opponent’s name and stats. There was an oddly compelling fascination in trying to decipher gamer handles. Did sixteen other people _really_ need to call themselves Fluff_Bomb? Had Trusty Chops been named for a favorite pet? Was KittyLumpkin just a gag-worthy endearment or actually written on someone’s birth certificate? And would D3m0nSl4y3r please get a life?

It was unlikely that anyone watching would notice the distracted shifting of her gaze. At any given moment she needed to be watching her 1v1 match, the settings on her channel to make sure the stream was live, the inset face-cam feed that showed her while playing the game, plus comments streaking by in the chat. If her eyes occasionally drifted to contemplate bizarre user tags or check the clock, no one would know.

20:54. A little over an hour left before she could shut the feed off and call it a night. Usually she enjoyed these evenings immersed in her two favorite pastimes: basking in attention and totally dominating. Tonight it just felt like work. Her opponent—whimsical but completely unoriginally named—was buffed like a tank and moved slow as one too. The battle was a drudgery of nerf-attack-dodge, repeated over and over again while waiting for her ultimate to charge so she could simply waste his ass and move on. A stolen glance to one corner of the screen confirmed that her excited gaming face was still in place and no one could guess at the boredom gnawing behind her eyes. 

“Oh, look! Badonkadonks*!” She quickly snatched up the explosives but her enthusiasm felt forced. The only way she knew to compensate was by being loud.

Not like there was anyone around she’d be bothering. Hana shared her quarters with Tracer, but the British agent tended to disappear on the weekends. She’d race off on Friday nights, a blur of blue cheer, and not come back until late Sunday. Often with an exhausted but delirious smile and the collar of her signature jacket tugged up high. Either Lena had a pattern of attracting vampires or there was someone steady in the picture. A wistful fondness turned Hana’s lips towards a smile. She could be happy for her friend and just a bit jealous too.

Beside her primary screen sat a second monitor that hosted the public chat for her channel. The conversation scrolling by was a waterfall of rapidly switching names and colors, thousands of comments from miscellaneous fans and haters gobbling each other up. Long-time subscribers had a separate, more private chatroom and she kept closer watch on them. These were fans that had followed her for years and had become something of a loose-knit family.

Red Jenny 942: Come on, give us a hint  
Red Jenny 942: _PM request_  
OneWingedAngel: 4$$hat is chipping  
SeekerP: _refused PM request_  
D Brennokovic: Give it a rest, Daisy  
J_Naught: F****** CENSOR THIS B****BOT MOTHER******  
Princess Stabbity: Welcome back, J

A very, very dysfunctional family that needed constant supervision or else the cousins would start inbreeding and grandpa would try to set fire to the cat. Tonight they were fairly mellow. Perhaps they were plagued by the same boredom she couldn’t shake? Nonexistent itches kept blossoming on her nerves; a restless need to move, to run and yell all condensed into constant fidgets.

SeekerP: Turn off caps, J  
Red Jenny 942: Eat my shorts, DB  
D Brennokovic: Ur obsessed  
J_Naught: F*** u  
Archangel2183: Any1 got chill playlist?  
SeekerP: Thx nutjob  
Red Jenny 942: Back to the shorts . . .  
D Brennokovic: _shares music link_  
Archangel2138: Thx. Looking for mood.  
Princess Stabbity: I’m in the mood for sushi

Hana held her breath until the urge to cringe went away. An innocent comment about a deservedly popular food and suddenly her concentration was slipping again. That conversation with Sombra might have been two weeks ago but it had a way of kicking up in her thoughts and twisting her stomach inside out. ‘ _These are the games I like.’_ The hard plastic of her controller gave a tiny creak when her fingers reflexively tightened, pulse quickening for the first time all night.

Two weeks and not so much as a dead pixel on her channel. Hours and hours of uninterrupted D.Va glory without cartoon sounds or Peruvian polka music dubbed in. No subtitle hacks that turned her commentary into pig-latin or narrated the entire match like a nature documentary. Never mind the lag-switching and bot sabotages.

Funny, though, Sombra never made her lose a game. Annoyed, infuriated and often humiliated her, but the hacker never actually cost her the match.  Hana was vaguely aware that the face-cam was capturing her with a furrowed brow, concentrating much harder than the current PvP actually deserved. Wandering this new path of thought was just more intriguing than anything happening on her screen right now.

Sombra always made things difficult, but not impossible. It became a knot of suspense in Hana’s stomach every night when she turned on her feed, a trickle of adrenaline electrifying her blood. Would there be a trick tonight? What would it be? No matter how furious she was each time she saw evidence of the crazed hacker’s meddling, the anger never overpowered her pride. If anything the thrill of winning was even higher— _sweeter_ —on those nights when she was playing against more than the opponent in her game.

Winning now felt too easy. Hana barely caught her surprise in time to keep it from painting across her entire face. The gasp stayed barred in her throat until it finally escaped as nothing more than a long exhale of relief. No wonder she was bored! Playing without Sombra was going from Nightmare mode down to Story!

She’d been able to convince herself that it was a good thing at first. That a week without any disruptions meant that she’d made her point; that she’d _won._ Except doubt kept gnawing away at her sense of triumph. Small, treacherous voices in her head replayed their conversation over and over; hunting for clues, keeping score. With each repetition of the insults and teasing hints the pit in Hana’s stomach grew wider, swallowing up shreds of pride and denial. Even if it was a victory, it felt as hollow as her insides. The hacker had simply moved on to something more interesting. This hadn’t been enough fun.

_O, jenjang._ She actually _missed_ Sombra.

While Hana was wrapping her mind around that horrifying fact, Fluff_Bomb17 managed to get in a good hit that yanked her back to her senses.

“Oh, that’s it! I’m so done with this twink!” Hana swapped for her upgraded weapon. She usually played nice. Even with gamers who’d obviously equipped gear they couldn’t possibly have earned, she stuck to the levels and stats. But this spoony bard[2](https://unilearning.uow.edu.au/academic/4di_footnotes.html#2) had just pissed her off in the middle of a serious, soul-searching epiphany. That meant it was time for nukes. “Wake up and smell the ashes[3](https://unilearning.uow.edu.au/academic/4di_footnotes.html#3)!”

OneWingedAngel: FINISH HIM[4](https://unilearning.uow.edu.au/academic/4di_footnotes.html#4)!  
SeekerP: Triumph or Die[5](https://unilearning.uow.edu.au/academic/4di_footnotes.html#5)!  
D Brennokovic: Somebody order a shot in the face[6](https://unilearning.uow.edu.au/academic/4di_footnotes.html#6)?  
Red Jenny 942: Wakka-wakka-wakka[7](https://unilearning.uow.edu.au/academic/4di_footnotes.html#7)  
Archangel2183: No, I really know a great place for sushi. U should come with me.  
Princess Stabbity: Not happening.  
Badass Space Diva: EVER  
J_Naught: F*****’ F*** this F*****!  
: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz  
Red Jenny 942: Hey! Rude much?!  
J_Naught:  WTF?! That bull*******shit wasn’t me!  
SeekerP: You are the rudest. But barely.  
: Still boring, _conejita._

Even with her attention riveted on reducing Fluff_Bomb to a dust ball, Hana’s subconscious caught that one word and lit up her entire brain. _Conejita._ Bunny. She’d looked it up and now it was seared into her memory, right along with the shiver that had rippled down her spine when Sombra’s voice wrapped so intimately around the mocking name.

“Anyone who doesn’t like it doesn’t have to watch.” Hana was used to ignoring and dismissing trolls of all kinds, but never with the war of a smile tugging at one corner of her lips. Sombra hadn’t lost interest after all. A childish energy swelled up inside her, eager to bounce in her seat and giggle as if she were at the start of a rollercoaster.

D Brennokovic: What the hell’s going on?  
Princess Stabbity: We have a ghost?  
: I don’t like watching the game, but you, chica? That’s different.  
Badass Space Diva: Flirt.  
Princess Stabbity: U know I don’t speak Spanish!

Confusion was rapidly escalating in the chatroom, headed straight for anger. On her battle screen Fluff_Bomb was spamming insults and pleas for mercy while trying desperately to evade her death blow. Dozens and hundreds of words flying back and forth like so much visual background noise to the one voice she could picture perfectly whispering in her ear.

“Just how long have you been watching?” Hana usually had rules about not engaging too obviously with any single fan. It upset the others or raised expectations. But Sombra wasn’t technically a fan. This was more like the times she had to scold or boot people that weren’t behaving. Except the opposite in pretty much every way.

SeekerP: ?? I tuned in at 18:00 when the feed started.  
Badass Space Diva: 3 years +/-?  
Red Jenny 942: Don’t think she means u  
Archangel2183: C’mon, just for some fun?  
Princess Stabbity: How many ways do I have to spell GIRLFRIEND?  
: Long enough, _mi amiga_ , long enough.  
D Brennokovic: Better back off, 2183. Badass will toast ur balls.

Hana’s eyes darted down, the numbers on the clock suddenly ticking by faster than before. Maybe she should extend the schedule tonight? Go an extra hour? She could keep Sombra engaged. It might be a way of finding out what the hacker’s plans were, figure out her next move. There had to be some conveniently plausible excuse for the nervous certainty that fifteen minutes just wasn’t enough time anymore.

: Long enough to know you check the clock five or six times an hour. All this week.  
OneWingedAngel: Who is this clown?  
J_Naught: Mother******* stalker  
Red Jenny 942: There’s rules about that, right? Seeker?  
SeekerP: Laws. There are LAWS about stalking.  
D Brennokovic: She has been looking at the clock more . . .

Heat rushed up Hana’s cheeks, a reddening confession tinted with the fire of a thrill. All week, she’d been watching all week. Watching Hana grow bored and frustrated and waiting for the perfect moment to leap in and gloat. Her ego was twisting itself into a pretzel, flattered and incensed at the same time. Caught by the same impulsive, narcissistic instinct that gets indignant at hearing catcalls on the street but still wants to turn and see if it was someone cute.

“It’s important to keep track of the time in a match. Speed affects the total score.” Hana bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning at her own neutral but pathetic excuse. Jesse was right; she couldn’t lie if she’d been knocked out flat.

: _La mierda_  
SeekerP: Bullshit  
Archangel2183: Bullshit  
J_Naught: What they said  
Badass Space Diva: Can smell it all the way over here

 “Nerf you.” Hana’s irritated growl might have been aimed at everyone in the chat, at just Sombra, or at the unfortunate Fluff_Bomb17. Either way, it was the last thing her hapless opponent heard before she delivered a KO hit so hard everyone on his server would get bruises. Huge letters announcing her victory flashed on the screen and the public chatroom erupted in the virtual version of applause: typing in all caps.

“How’d you like that?” Hana flashed her trademark smile and wink at the face-cam, a victory ritual she’d performed thousands of times inexplicably new and exciting as she watched the responses.

Princess Stabbity: nice  
Badass Space Diva: Real badasses eat chocolate chip cookies[8](https://unilearning.uow.edu.au/academic/4di_footnotes.html#8)  
D Brennokovic: About time!  
OneWingedAngel: He wasn’t worth it  
: Is this when we start the slow clap?

Even in letters on a screen Sombra managed to drip sarcasm. A few typed words and Hana could all but feel the disdain of the hacker’s eyes rolling towards heaven.

“Guess there’s no making some people happy,” she huffed. Comical dramatics were useful for masking the very real pout weighing her lips.

: You want happy fans? Just play with your shirt off.  
Archangel2183: Ur getting on my nerves  
J.Naught: F*** off  
SeekerP: Administrator can boot  
Badass Space Diva: Who the hell is this anyway?!  
: It’s all business, _¿sí?_ Double the views in half the time.

“That is not what my fans want!” Hana snapped, realizing at the last second that she had responded on the open channel to a comment only nine people could see.  That little outburst was almost as embarrassing as Sombra’s suggestion, combining to send another wave of heat stinging up her cheeks.

: Ay, chica. _No puedes ser tan estúpido._ Not even you can be this clueless!

“That’s enough for tonight!” Hana snapped to a decision, rushing to end this travesty before it got worse.  

: Do a search and look PAST the headlines for a change. See what your fans really want.  
Red Jenny 942: Don’t do that. Really bad idea.  
SeekerP: For once I’m with Jenny. Don’t.  
Red Jenny 942: See?! I knew you’d come around. Now about your knickers—  
_SeekerP has left the conversation._

“Thanks to everyone who tuned in and don’t forget to check my site for the next scheduled stream. _Gamsa_ and goodnight!”  Hana’s finger hovered directly over the off command, curiosity dragging her eyes back to Sombra one last time.

OneWingedAngel: crazy night  
D Brennokovic: This shit was weird  
: _Dulces sueños, conejita._

With a tap of her finger the live feed ended and the windows all closed.  Hana sagged back in her chair, barely aware of the shallow trembling of her breath. That _michin-nyeon_ did it again. Sombra slid so easily under her skin, like needles you couldn’t feel until you moved wrong. Once more the hacker had gotten into her head, planted questions and doubts that would gnaw at her until nothing she knew made sense.

Hana pushed to her feet, fists unconsciously clenched as she stalked away from the desk. She wasn’t going to let Sombra win like this. Not this time. The only solution was to mentally erase the entire conversation. To forget it happened and never think about it again. That was what she was going to do.

She didn’t think about it as she went about her bedtime rituals. Not when she was washing her face. Not when she brushed her teeth. Certainly not while she was changing into her sleepwear and paused a little longer than usual, contemplating her naked reflection. She _almost_ thought about it when her eyes drifted over the pink fabric of her underwear, but then she didn’t.

Bed was such a welcome comfort, the ultimate relief after a long and bizarre day.  There was a calm satisfaction in Hana’s sigh as she settled back onto her pillow, certain she had come out of this last battle of wits unscathed. She wasn’t going to doubt herself or her fans. She wasn’t going to worry about what might exist out there in the infinite vastness of the net. She knew rule 34 perfectly well. She just didn’t know how much of it included her. Or doing what . . .

“ _Ssibal!_ ” Hana spat. Now she was thinking about it and pissed and it was too late to stop.  

One small voice of reason in her head desperately tried to stop her hands from grabbing her tablet off the nightstand but Sombra’s voice was there too, a hum in her ear that turned to a rasp of laughter when she opened the surfing app. Typing the letters of her name into the search engine felt like watching them engraved on a tombstone.

The first page of results was all news stories and Hana quickly skipped past them. Half a dozen more pages were devoted to fansites for her, Overwatch, MEKA and mech fighting. As Hana scrolled through the links her breath came easier again, even releasing a chuckle. Some of the pictures had obviously been taken when she wasn’t paying attention, and there were a _lot_ of cosplay imitations that were unfortunate at best (particularly the men with facial hair) but there was nothing offensive. Nothing that she didn’t already know about her fan base. Yes, they were a bit weird and didn’t understand boundaries or celebrity persona but, really, they were nice and harmless and –

Hana’s eyes widened at the new page of links. _D.Va Score! D.Va x Tracer. D.Va Gets Pounded._ Any possible ambiguity in the titles was completely erased by the images and descriptions that popped up alongside. Fuck this and creampie that and so very, very many dicks. Creative use of ‘nerf’ though, she’d give them that.

Morbid fascination drew her into a vid that had apparently been watched almost five million times. Was that five million different people? Or a few hundred thousand with way too much time? Her first thought—as she watched a total stranger getting fucked while wearing D.Va’s trademark uniform—was that her breasts were nowhere near big enough to bounce like that. It was comical and yet hypnotic to watch them jiggle back and forth like water balloons.

Her second thought was that whoever made the video had no clue how mech pilot suits actually looked. There was nearly surgical precision to the way they’d cut out a square from the material, exposing her for sex without compromising the rest of the suit. Did they actually think there was a panel just Velcro-ed on between her legs to make it easier for ripping off when she was in the mood?

Apparently they did, because the next vid had the same idea. And the next. After clicking through five or six videos, Hana was certain that all the D.Va porn stars were going to the same seamstress. The costume was the only thing they all had in common. The suit, headphones and pink face stripes would seem to be all that was needed to impersonate her. One of the women was at least twice her age, damn it! And the voices! Oh, dear god, the sounds they made! Had no one watched her channel? She did not sound like that. She wasn’t even sure she _could_. The fake, high-pitched cries, maybe. But one of the actresses moaned so low and deep that Hana had to double check to make sure it wasn’t one of the bearded cosplayers she’d seen before.

In Hana’s experience pornography could be many things: stimulating, cathartic, revealing, unrealistic, offensive, cringe-worthy, creative etc. She’d never realized it could be funny. It probably wasn’t deliberate, but by the tenth video Hana was starting to giggle. Was that face supposed to be pleasure? It looked more like the actress had smelled something awful. Did they all have to squeak like they were getting stuck with pins?

Then the vids started to include other known Overwatch agents and Hana’s giggling turned to pure, unabashed laughter. Reinhardt impersonated by a boy that couldn’t be half his age or a third his size. Jesse with a distinctly eastern European accent. Tracer screaming ‘blimey’ in orgasm.  Angela using her Caduceus Staff in a way that was going to make Hana’s next physical _very_ difficult to get through. Who knew porn could be better than cartoons?

Holy shit, porn _was_ cartoons. Hana excitedly followed a link that promised to show an animated version of herself with Zarya. There was a lot more freedom for creativity in vids that weren’t limited to physical actors. For example, the animators had decided to make Zarya comically gargantuan. The Russian was a tall and well-built woman but hardly the nine-foot giantess on her screen. D.Va looked like a doll being manhandled. Literally, because they’d also given Zarya a cock. Which Hana knew for a fact she didn’t have. _But if she did, it probably_ would _be that big!_ Another laugh bubbled free, very nearly becoming a snort.

In cartoon form the boundaries of fact ceased to exist; the heroes of Overwatch were granted carnal indulgences that ranged from unlikely to downright impossible. Zenyatta with a mouth. Orisa doing something unspeakable to Lucío. Genji and Angela and a confusion of cyborg tentacles. Herself getting fucked in, on and _by_ her own mech. That last one should’ve been hilarious but something about the mechanical sound of pistons firing away made her wince and lock her knees together.

Buried amidst the ludicrously delusional fantasies and frankly painful fetishes, there were moments of genuinely stirring heat. Intense and evocative details like toes curling in rumpled sheets and eyes fluttering to stay open. Slow, intimate kisses that made her wish Angela and Fareeha would get together just so she could see the real thing. The rush of shallow, panting breaths culminating in an exultant, trembling sigh.

A tight pinch of arousal made Hana acutely aware of how long it had been since she’d enjoyed those pleasures in person. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

The tablet was dropped unceremoniously onto her nightstand, a frustrated huff her only comment before burrowing back down into her covers. Then another irritated noise because she was sweaty and had to fling everything off. Goosebumps prickled everywhere cool air touched her skin, forcing her to at least grab the sheet and pull it up to her chin, rolling over to bury her face in the pillow. In the silent room her breath echoed loud in her own ears, a little too reminiscent of the sounds still twirling in her head. Her curse broke the stillness and she violently twisted back, the creak of the bedframe conjuring memories of that rhythmic noise punctuated by sharp, keening cries.

HADOUKEN[ii](https://unilearning.uow.edu.au/academic/4di_endnotes.html#3)! Hana covered her face with both hands, smothered by the heat of her own skin. She needed to get off. There was no other relief for the tight pressure throbbing in the pit of her belly. Other nights she could find refuge in sleep, but instinctively knew that wouldn’t be the case this time. This lust had the stubborn ache of a fresh wound, spreading into her veins with every traitorous heartbeat.

One hand impatiently slid under the sheets, too annoyed to bother with finesse. Fingers grazed the hem of her sleep shorts when a sudden, chilling thought made her freeze. Across the room her computer looked harmless sitting on the desk. But atop the monitor was her face-cam, looking ever so much like the eye of a predator hiding in wait. Sombra couldn’t have—wait, what was she thinking?—of course Sombra _could_. That damn woman could hack anything with an electrical pulse, from mech to automatic coffee machine. The real question was if she would or had.

Damn Sombra. Hana clenched her jaw tight, mouth thinning into a determined scowl. It was that purple-haired psycho’s fault to begin with. So fuck her and her mind games. Her taunts and teasing laughter. Her childish antics and lack of boundaries and stupid, sexy, confusing hints. Hana’s fingers slipped inside her underwear, cold between the overheated flesh of her thighs. Fuck those mysterious eyes, deep as an ocean trapped beneath ice and the rhythmic, honeyed rasp of her voice.

Hana spread her legs wider, dipping in to find a pool of desire instantly spilling over her fingers. Even that light touch made her stomach clench, the delicious spark that twisted her insides shattering any pretense. In the span of a single, skipping beat ‘fuck Sombra’ changed to—

“Fuck _yes_.” A shaky sigh parted Hana’s lips, giving into her imagination. She’d been thinking about the hacker for weeks; irritated, distracted, embarrassed and wound up like a child’s toy about to break. The constant urge to get her hands on the infuriating woman and throw her off a cliff melted in the heat and left Hana wanting to throw her up against a wall.

Hackers were patient. Hana slowed her movements, stroking up and down slickened flesh but deliberately avoiding the places most desperate to be touched. Sombra was a tease, she was sure of it. It was in the lilt of her voice and every mischievous flash of her eyes. That was what she did, wasn’t it? Decipher patterns, crack defenses, exploit _vulnerabilities._ Two fingers sank easily into the clinging warmth of her sex, plunging as deep as she could reach to fill the hollow ache. A tang of metal hit Hana’s tongue, teeth biting a little too hard into her lower lip as she warred between need and want. The fantasy was too sweet to rush.

Sombra had a wicked mouth, not just her words but the very shape of her lips held the promise of sin. Hana’s free hand fumbled at her breast, a soft whine slipping from her throat while pinching fingers imitated the sharpness she’d seen lurking behind Sombra’s smiles. The memory of laughter whispered in her ears, low and coarse and absolutely glorying in her need.

There was no teasing now, nothing slow or patient. The game was over and all that was left was winning. Fingers stroked hard and fast, curling just right to stagger her breathing into the choked bursts and quick gasps of shameless desperation. Her breast ached where she had squeezed too hard, cold air pebbling her abandoned nipple when she devoted both hands to the selfish need between her thighs. Rough, impatient thrusts hooked into the sensitive swell of her front wall, matching fast and clumsy circles over her clit. The frenzied rhythm mirrored her mental chant of obscenities. _Fuck yes_ and _please, oh god, please_ , braided in and around thoughts that weren’t words, just incoherent demand.

“Sombra,” Hana gasped, head tipping back into the pillow. Moaning that name made her cheeks burn but she clung to it, to the rush of freedom spilling from her tongue. “Sombr- _ah!_ ” The sound caught in her throat, voice trapped by the breaking wave that arched her off the bed, collapsing her back to the sheets in a mess of trembling muscles and shaking, giggling breath.

When she could feel the weight of her body again, indolent and sated, Hana eased her hands from between her thighs. Her fingers were a sticky mess but she was too sleepy to care, wiping them off on her nightshirt and making a mental note to throw everything in the laundry in the morning. She rolled over, happily snuggling into her pillow with the contented sigh of dreams already creeping close. Tracer wouldn’t be back for another night. A lazy smile spread across her lips. Perhaps tomorrow night she’d find out what searching for ‘purple-haired hacker’ could turn up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took longer than usual for me to update! Schedule is busier these days plus these two characters are proving harder to work with than I anticipated. Hopefully they still come across well and don't seem forced. There were definitely some parts I had a LOT of fun writing (and no, not necessarily just the naughty bits). Comments and thoughts are eagerly invited.   
> Also, it's worth asking: should I include a language glossary at the end of the chapters or is that superfluous?  
> Game Quotes:  
> *= Borderlands 2   
> 2- Final Fantasy IV  
> 3- Half-Life 2  
> 4- Mortal Kombat  
> 5- Street Fighter Alpha  
> 6- Dragon Age 2  
> 7- Pacman  
> 8- Borderlands 2  
> ii- Street Fighter 2


	3. Sneak Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no smut in this chapter - saving it all for the next!

Hana surveyed her desk, mentally ticking off all the necessary items for a gaming binge. It was a ritual bordering on sacred; gathering and arranging her cans of energy drink and bag of chips within easy reach, strategically placing a bowl of candies off camera in case she needed a quick sugar rush. Salty, sweet and caffeinated; all the gamer food groups. Or, as Angela preferred to say: three different flavors of death. She had fuel, time, her backup controller charged, and a reckless, ingenious plan for making tonight even more epic.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Efi’s exotic, clipped accent sounded even younger when she was nervous.

“Absolutely! Gotta shake things up a bit.” Hana breezily reassured the genius. Fortunately, they weren’t vid-conferencing and Efi had no chance of seeing the shape of her smile, a twist of pleasure that had nothing to do with happiness.

She’d been playing defense with Sombra for too long, and failing miserably even at that. Her mind was constantly tying itself into knots around the thought of the hacker; questioning motives, anticipating the next move, indulging fantasies that made her squirm in bed and take longer than normal in the shower. Every competitive instinct in her body screamed to take back her edge but she hadn’t a shred of idea how. Until now.

“Ok then, the program is installed and will activate as soon as you turn on the live feed.” In between her cooperative words snaked the skeptical tone of Efi’s real opinion. The Numbani girl clearly thought this was insane but had no valid reason to object.

That was exactly why Hana had decided to ask for her assistance instead of Winston or Athena. Their help—genius as it was—came with far more questions. At some point in the past few months everyone at Gibraltar had heard her venomously cursing hackers at great length and with no small amount of creativity. They might even have caught Sombra’s name amidst all the Korean profanity. This week she’d suddenly stopped and now there were even more worried and confused looks following her every move. This plan would be a neon red flag.

“Alright!” Hana grinned and dropped into her chair. She cracked both sets of knuckles before grabbing up a controller. “Gameface: on.”

\----

Talon’s employees and thugs all fit a standard description. They had to be big, menacing and about as sharp as a bowling ball. Sombra never spared them a thought. They were cannon fodder, expendable pawns whose primary job was keeping the hell out of her way. Right now, however, her attention was fixed on one in particular with a single-minded obsessiveness that could think of nothing other than flinging him off the transport with a live grenade wedged in his mouth. If he made that obnoxious sucking noise between his teeth One. More. TIME.

“Impatient, Sombra?” Widowmaker’s cool voice teased from the opposite seat.

“That job took almost twice as long as predicted,” Sombra grumbled, folding her arms and not caring in the slightest that she looked like a child denied her sweets.

“It was within acceptable limits.” Widow gave a dismissive shrug, seemingly preoccupied with the condition of her nails. Only when Sombra made an irritated scoffing noise did those alien eyes drift back up, alive with dangerous mischief. There was an amused quirk in her lips when she leaned forward, lowering her voice to the tone of secrets and menace, “So eager to get back to playing with your new toy?”

“Just a bad case of weekend-itis.” Sombra’s electrified hand left a wave of color in the air as she brushed away the accusation. Her own coy smile wasn’t half so subtle, nor was her threat, “You know the one, _amiga_. That same itch you get every Friday night when you go slinking off for a few days?”

That predatory gaze momentarily clouded over, a deadly storm flashing in Widow’s eyes before the impassive armor slammed back into place. She and Sombra played at being friends, maybe trusting each other just a fraction more than the rest of the vicious and backstabbing lackeys Talon employed. That didn’t mean they didn’t both keep their edges sharp and one eye open whenever the other was around.

The assassin might have suspicions about her interests, but Sombra had fact. Better even, she had _evidence._ If Widowmaker didn’t want Talon or Overwatch finding out about her clandestine little understanding with a particular spandex-clad speed demon, she’d wipe that smug smirk off her bride-of-death lips and mind her own damn business.

“You should get out more, _mon amie._ ” Widow leaned back, resuming her perfectly disciplined posture and tone, “Some things aren’t as much fun through a computer.”

Sombra scowled the rest of the way back to base, trying not to let her eyes drift too often to the clock but cringing each time she saw the minutes ticking by. They landed nearly an hour later than expected and hers were the first boots off the transport. Reaper’s graveled voice roared after her but she was already at the hangar exit, tossing a one-fingered salute over her shoulder before bolting to her assigned quarters.

Half a dozen computers fired up as soon as she entered her room. Her best gear was at her den in Castillo, but she’d coaxed a workable setup out of Talon for when she was on site. One innocuous wall transformed into the massive monitor that made her feel like a god surveying realms. A warm, technological glow bathed her quarters in dull, multi-colored light and washed the irritation from her face.

She was nearly two hours late but the evening wasn’t lost yet. The little game she’d planned for tonight wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to start up. Excitement tensed her nerves, a sweet kiss of anticipation making her fingers dance.

Her eyes swept over the screen as D.Va’s match filled the main monitor, eagerness fadding into shock and then horror. Any trace of smile vanished, her upper lip twitching towards a snarl. Was this some kind of joke? Hana’s face was down in the lower corner of the screen, seemingly engrossed in the match and deliberately ignoring anything that was wrong. Because what was wrong was every- _maldito_ -thing!

The entire game looked like it was straight out of a vintage arcade. 16 bit graphics. A handful of garish colors. All the characters in 2D. All that was missing was a monkey flinging barrels!

“ _¡Bastardo pendejo_! _¿Jugando con cosas que no son tuyas? ¡Hijo de puta_!” Sombra’s fingers curled into claws, ripping thin air apart as she split the surface programming open like the edges of a cracked egg. Strings of code unraveled in her hands and across her screens, picking them apart line by line, an entire tapestry coming undone because of a single loose thread.

Who would do this? Who else would dare? There was a tang of copper on her tongue that failed to stop her teeth savaging one lip. Had some pathetic copycat decided to mimic her work? Was it  another hacker targeting D.Va?  The heat that been creeping up Sombra’s throat suddenly rushed the rest of the way like a volcano, threatening to make her vision blur in a molten surge of anger. No one else got to mess with Hana. The little hero was _her_ game. She would bury this _cabrón._

Promises of swift and cruel punishment spun in her head at the same speed as the code flying apart beneath her fingers. Malicious program identified . . . source location . . .tracking . . . verifying IP. The image of a young Numbani girl popped up on Sombra’s monitor, the answer to all her questions. For a long second all she could do was glare at the innocent smile lighting up her screen, irritated by her own confusion. That wasn’t the picture of a nemesis. That face belonged on a kids’ cartoon show with important life lessons and lots of talking animals.

Before she could decide whether or not to wreck this child’s life for nothing more than looking sweet when she was furious, her full matrix sprang to life on the screen. Headlines, interviews, tech pages and gossip sites all zipped across the monitor, creating a patchwork quilt of identity around that innocent smile. Sombra watched her ingenious program link Ms. Oladele to the Adawe Foundation, to Atlas News, the OR15s and—finally—Overwatch. She stepped back from the full wall monitor, needing to see everything at once so it was easier to believe.

That sly little leaderboard whore. Surprise mingled with delight tugging at Sombra’s lips. Hana had hacked her own game. A wave of one hand banished all the open windows, a finger keeping D.Va’s live feed in place and letting it fill the screen. Even with her patchy knowledge of the genre there was an undeniable twinge of nostalgia as her eyes followed the match in all its retro glory.

The knot of shock and fury that had been tight in her chest finally unwound, loosening into amazed laughter. Followers around the world were watching this live stream and assuming D.Va was the victim of yet another digital prank. Only three people would know it originated with Hana herself. And of those three only one knew the reason, though Sombra had her suspicions.

 “ _Muy bien, chamaquita_ , you’ve learned a new trick.” The pop and hiss of an energy drink cracking open punctuated the air as Sombra settled into her chair, getting comfortable to appreciate the rest of the show. “Now, what are you using it for?”

She’d be loath to admit it but Sombra had come to enjoy these evenings of simply watching and relaxing for a change. No managing pernicious code or fighting with security measures to maintain control of the channel. Free from the distraction of her own tricks, she could sit back and take it all in; catching the small details that probably went unnoticed by thousands or millions of other viewers. Like the way Hana’s eyes got darker just before unleashing a brutal attack, or the delectable part of her lips when an enemy was near the finish. If she looked closely enough Sombra imagined she could not only see but hear the quickened rhythm of that beat pulsing ever so subtly beneath creamy skin. The same way she could close her eyes and detect the faint changes in breathing that presaged a final blow.  

That quivering, staccato sigh of triumph easily became something else entirely before Hana’s gleeful voice dragged Sombra’s eyes open once more. D.Va had thoroughly decimated her opponent and was looking right into the camera with a wide, excited grin.

“Don’t forget: Saturday night is the grand opening of a hot new play spot in Seoul! Come out for cutting edge games, great music and live exhibition matches. I’ll be there to kick off the fun!” Hana tilted a little closer to the camera, voice lowering. “Think you’ve got what it takes to play me? Prove it.” Her deliberate wink at the end turned that seductive invitation into a challenge.

Sombra’s can of energy drink buckled in her fist. She was still staring at the screen well after the feed had been shut down and all the windows went dark. A slow, careful exhale eased the tension from her shoulders, letting her sag back into her chair with an awed chuckle.

“Ay, _conejita_ , aren’t you just full of surprises?” A fiendish thrill raced along her spine, revealing itself in a flash of teeth. This game just got a lot more interesting.

\---

A heavy bass beat in the club kept perfect time with the strobe lights that painted gyrating dancers in stop motion.  Hana occasionally stole glances at the dance floor below, simultaneously jealous and relieved that she wasn’t down in that teeming throng of bodies.  The elevated gaming levels sat above such carnal decadence, a dozen screens larger than any wall in her room filled with top of the line graphics and high speed action. Flashing lights on every side reminded her of the noise and distractions of a battlefield, music and strobes becoming a background of explosions and weapon fire. Not ideal since she was currently playing a racing game, but nothing she couldn’t ignore.

This was her twenty-seventh match of the night and it was getting harder and harder to act like she was excited to take on each newcomer. Nearly impossible to keep pretending any of them were difficult to beat. They were followers and haters, diehard fans and critics; and not a single one of them posed anymore challenge than a kitten mauling at the controller.

“Ai! Son of a beach!” The gangly youth she’d been playing groaned and dropped his hands in defeat when his virtual car smashed into a wall and caught fire. It took all of Hana’s self-control not to laugh at his mutilated profanity.

“Better luck next time!” She finished the race before leaning across the space between their gaming stations to extend her hand. It was immediately clasped in two rather clammy fists and shaken so hard her shoulder threatened to pop loose.

“Thanks you, D.Va! Best night my life! ‘All players game on!’” He let go with one hand long enough to hold up two fingers in a victory salute like her own, which was much more endearing than his slaughtered attempt at her sassy wink.  It was so heartfelt and mangled she actually felt a twinge of affection.

“Thanks for the love.” With her free hand she blew him a kiss, covering her mouth to hide any giggles when he swooned and stumbled out of the game stand like a newborn giraffe.

He staggered past the line of hopeful contestants, a chorus of jeers and whoops celebrating his fortune. Hana let her eyes trail over the queue, her stomach sinking in rebellion. There had to be a hundred of them, maybe more. Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? Announcing her appearance on the live stream and inviting all comers?! She might as well have promised they could all have a sleep over and braid each other’s hair.

The next player was an Omnic. Hana’s brow twitched up in surprise; she didn’t know she had any Omnic fans. She didn’t even know Omnics played games. This one sported distinctly punk decorated hardware and stepped onto the game stand without any hesitation. Could be basic neutral programming, could be a hell of a lot of arrogance. It would be fun to find out which.

Competitors got to pick the game and Hana was only mildly surprised to see her opponent selecting a historical reenactment. There was a wide variety to choose from, from crusades and tribal skirmishes all the way up to the major battles of both World Wars. But they were going to be playing the Omnic Crisis. Nothing personal there, right?

“Talk about not letting go,” Hana groaned just under her breath and took up a ready stance. She _hated_ when her appearances turned political. It always turned basic gaming into a psychological war. Winning meant heaping more abuse on an already downtrodden population. Losing would give fringe elements more fuel for their screams that humanity only succeeded by chance and was on its last legs. She glanced over at the Omnic, for the briefest moment wondering if he also felt the pressure of context weighing down on them. Why couldn’t they just be two players having fun?

The battle was randomly selected and landed them in South America. At least they were on equally foreign ground. Waves of soldiers threw themselves against bastion defenses with little hope of success and Hana’s stomach twisted on itself as she loaded weapons and opened fire into the familiar looking enemies. Her usually perfect aim kept faltering, recoiling from the thought of shooting the head off anyone that looked like one of her teammates. This was _not_ what she’d been hoping for tonight. It was getting difficult to keep her ‘concentration face’ from turning into a genuine pout.

 _“Buenos noches, conejita.”_ The disembodied voice whispering into Hana’s headset made her start, missing a crucial shot.

“ _Gaejasig_! Do you have to do that?!” The affronted curse could easily be interpreted as an insult to her opponent, and no one noticed that Hana’s glowering face was aimed anywhere _except_ the Omnic. She knew Sombra would eventually appear. Call it fate or karma. The punishment or reward for something from a past life. It was getting hard to decide.

 _“You’re cute when you jump. What is it you say, ‘bunny hop?’ Adorable.”_ Sombra’s voice was low and lazy, dark molasses trickling over smirking lips.

“You hacked my headphones?” Honestly, Hana wasn’t even surprised anymore. She was only annoyed that she hadn’t expected such a trick.  Also, she was irritated that her Omnic opponent kept bombing her health to smithereens while she wasn’t paying attention. They didn’t have mouths for smirking and yet there was something insufferably smug about that metal expression when she glanced over.

 _“¡Claro esta! What did you expect? You asked me to come play. So, here I am.”_ There was a proud flourish in Sombra’s voice. Without being able to see her Hana was still certain the hacker was taking a bow.

“I meant play a game.” Annoyance climbed up Hana’s throat as she went on the offense with her Omnic opponent. Much as she empathized with their history and cause, this match was just too much of an annoyance. She needed all her wits for focusing on Sombra and right now getting bombarded by two lines of defensive turrets was not only distracting—it was pissing her off.

 _“That’s what I was planning, chiquita. Are you ready for me?”_ The purr in Hana’s headphones was accompanied by the briefest brush of warmth against her back, a whisper of a touch at her wrist. She jerked around to search for the offending party but there was no one near her. No one she could see anyway. Cold sweat prickled on the back of Hana’s neck, stealing her attention as she spun back to focus on the match. Damn that hacker and her stealth gear.

“Do your worst.” Hana’s jaw ached from clenching tight over her growl, forcing a rumble of threat she didn’t feel.

 _“I will.”_ Invisible fingers plucked at Hana’s headphones, for the briefest moment revealing her ear. Sombra’s voice was even more childish with delight when her breath hit Hana’s cheek, a sudden, single brush of warmth with laughter barely contained, “Boop!”

“Inspiration for birth control*.” The absent, grumbled insult was a reflex, Hana’s mind already racing ahead to formulate plans. The first of which was figuring out a way to beat her opponent without exacerbating Human/Omnic tensions beyond the powder keg level that already permeated all of society.

Before she could decide on the most politically correct way of winning this damned game a chorus of surprised gasps dragged her full attention to the match screen. The bastions had all suddenly reversed direction, openly firing on the Omnic army instead of their enemies. A series of shocked, digitized sputters were all the protest her opponent could manage as his entire army was turned to scrap metal by supposed allies. There was no expression on the metal shell of his face but Hana could feel the disappointment whirring away in his head.

“Look me up for a rematch sometime.” She tentatively reached one hand out, not entirely sure what to expect. The Omnic regarded her and her outstretched fingers, silent and unmoving long enough to make her feel foolish for trying. Then his cool metal hand slid into hers, shaping to fit her fingers without gripping too tight.

“Another time.” The Omnic nodded, giving her hand the gentlest of shakes before letting go and walking away. She could see the faces of other gamers sneering and scowling as he walked back past the line, ugly as hate.

“Another excellent round! Give a cheer for all tonight’s competitors so far!” Hana’s loud, exuberant demand yanked a reaction from the crowd before they even realized why they were clapping. Let them believe they were praising everyone. The Omnic glanced back at her, meeting her gaze as he continued on his way to thunderous applause. Let that be the headline tomorrow.

 _“Very generous, mi amiga.”_ Sombra’s typically arrogant tone was a little more subdued, almost impressed by the display.

“You cheated.” Hana turned away from the crowd of her followers, stepping out of the gaming station and stalking towards a more private space.

 _“I hastened the inevitable,”_ Sombra corrected with a cluck of her tongue. _“Or did you really intend to let him win?”_

“Where are you?” Hana deliberately ignored the question, leaning against the upper railing. From here she could scan the gaming level and the dance floor below, eyes intent on picking out the slightest glimpse of purple.

“Closer than you think.” The answer ruffled her hair, spinning Hana around to face eyes that shimmered between indigo and violet beneath the flashing lights. A quick wink and then she was vanishing, zipping away in the familiar blur of her translocator. _“Your turn, chica.”_

“Seriously?” Hana grumbled beneath her breath, catching a brief sight of the hacker amidst the throng of dancing bodies below. “We’re playing hide and seek?”

The frustrated question was purely rhetorical, her feet already racing down the stairs to give chase. In the back of her mind was a tickle of frustration, the realization that she was falling back into the same pattern: following Sombra’s lead rather than controlling the game herself.

 _“You would prefer tag?”_ Invisible hands caught Hana’s waist, a glancing touch that served only to throw her off balance and prove who had the advantage.

And why wouldn’t she? Sombra had stealth camouflage and the ability to translocate in the blink of an eye. She might as well be a ghost in this confusion of bodies spilling in every direction. Except, this ghost wanted to be found. Hana let instinct guide her into the press of people, a sly suspicion quickening her pulse.  

There was an unconscious harmony on a crowded dance floor, all the individuals melting into a single organism that moved in time with their shared heartbeat. Hana fell naturally into the music, its trance-like beat creeping up through her feet to take control of every muscle. Under the blinding bursts of light and heavy bass filling her ears, she couldn’t see or hear but she could _feel._ The rhythm and flow was natural as water, irresistible waves of movement that spread around her on all sides and amplified the slightest pebble sending ripples in the wrong direction.

 _There._ Hana was off by a beat, just missing the hacker only to spy her again across the way, a glimmer of delight electrifying Sombra’s eyes before she was gone again. A tickle of fingers sent shivers down Hana’s spine and she curled her toes, refusing to give into the urge to turn around. No more chasing. She’d fallen for that trick too many times, letting Sombra become bait _and_ prize. It was time she picked one or the other. Hana’s nerves stretched out, pulled tight as she waited to see what the hacker would choose.

Murmurs and small breaks in the current fed into her senses, whispering to her without words that Sombra was near and then gone, on this side and then the other. Circling. Hana’s breath hitched, growing shallow with the pressure of a victory close enough to taste. She felt giddy, like unlocking an invincibility cheat.

Her carefully delayed responses were making Sombra cocky, impulsive even. She flitted through Hana’s space more often, lingering just moments longer. Invisible touches turned her skin into a scorecard, each teasing brush of fingers a tally mark goading her to retaliate. There was a pattern, Hana could feel it. She could see it in the swirls of color that the club lights kept searing into her eyelids.

The lights! A glide of warmth across the small of her spine coincided perfectly with the startled gasp that stole her breath. Sombra just couldn’t resist showing off her skills, could she? The neon strobe colors were speeding up, matching the hacker’s darting movements as if both were racing a heartbeat about to explode. Bursts of flickering light turned Sombra into a specter, appearing on the far side of the dance floor and then on the upper railing; behind the DJ but suddenly back in the crowd. Always with her eyes on Hana, always with that tricky smile. Always in a circle.

Hana spun around in the next blink of darkness, hands shooting out to seize fistfuls of a jacket she couldn’t see. A blinding flash illuminated Sombra, her face the perfect picture of elated surprise.

“Are you even trying?” Hana grinned, tightening her grip on the hacker’s signature coat.

Darkness swallowed Sombra’s answering smirk, a sudden blackout throwing the dance floor into chaos. A split second later the lights were back on and once again flooding the club with colors that moved in time with the beat. Everyone whooped and cheered over the deafening music, the unbroken dance naturally flowing to fill in empty space where Sombra and Hana had been.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! One more chapter left. I think. My thanks to those of you who've left such wonderful feedback and flattering comments. Please let me know your thoughts/opinions/questions about anything taking place in the story. I also welcome suggestions and ideas since it can often be someone else that creates the spark for something brilliant.
> 
> Only one game quote this chapter (if you don't count D.Va using her own lines)  
> *Duke Nukem


	4. Boss Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. (Do not attempt to read at the family dinner table.) Also, double check the updated tags if you prefer to avoid surprises.

Hana couldn’t tell if the electrified hum beneath her skin was an aftereffect of translocating or just the rush from Sombra suddenly grabbing her before they vanished. There wasn’t enough time to decide, the hacker releasing her grip and peeling away once they arrived. In a private gaming room, no less. Hana swept her eyes over their surroundings, immediately drawn to the massive window that overlooked the club below. Through the two-way glass she saw dancers and gamers carrying on, completely unaffected by her disappearance.  That kind of tech would be an absolute godsend at her next game-con!

“That was amazing!” Hana spun back around, breathless and tingling from the adrenaline still coursing along her veins.

“I told you, _chiquita,_ ” Sombra chuckled from the other side of the room, pausing her rummage in the mini-fridge long enough to shoot a wink over her shoulder. “My games are way more fun.”

Arrogant to the very end. Hana folded her arms, schooling her features to mask any trace of amusement.

“They’re not very hard to win, though,” she coolly observed, gloating inside at the way Sombra’s back instantly stiffened.

“Who says you won?” The hacker turned to face her, a bottle of water in one hand apparently forgotten.  Menace purred beneath her mocking smirk, one dangerously tilted brow tempting Hana to test her luck.

“It looks pretty obvious to me.” She offered a shrug as she meandered around the room, absently touching random pieces of furniture and feigning interest in trivial bits of décor.

“I stole you right from under the eyes of all your precious fans and followers. _That_ is winning.” Sombra’s tone was ironclad conviction resting on laurels of victory. She cracked open the water bottle, taking a long swallow that drew Hana’s eyes to the arched line of her throat. There was a desert in her mouth and thirsty, greedy instinct twisted behind her teeth.

“And I caught a dangerous criminal before she could escape.” Hana’s breezy reply matched the nonchalant steps that brought her within reach of the hacker. In the dim light she could just make out a sheen on dark olive skin, eloquent as any confession.

Before doubt could pull her back Hana stepped into Sombra’s personal space. It took no effort to steal the water bottle from an unresisting hand, fresh confidence swelling within her ribs. Her eyes never left Sombra’s as she took a long drink, deliberately licking a stray drop from her lower lip. Her voice felt smoother gliding off her tongue now, pulling a low and intimate sound from the warmth humming in her veins, “It’s a draw, at best.”

 “ _Mierda,_ ” Sombra’s breath hitched on the curse, mouth parted for an extra beat before snapping shut with a click of teeth. She leaned back against the wet bar, exaggerating her façade of boredom even as her tone filled with intrigue, “So what do we do now?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Hana let her excitement bubble out in a carefree laugh. The water bottle hit the ground with a sloshing thump, both her arms snaking around Sombra’s neck to hold her close as she leaned in. The hacker’s lips were close enough to taste Hana’s whisper:

“Bonus round.”

Sombra’s mouth was as soft as her fantasies, supple and decadent against her lips. Gentle movement matched every caress, drawing her in helplessly to collect the small, almost tortured sounds trapped behind their kiss. It was nearly pain; the grasp of Sombra’s hands, the short, labored spasms that heaved her chest like a dying breath, the desperation of heartbeats racing in time. For a fleeting second Hana wondered if Sombra could hack a body, if this wasn’t the feeling of corrupt code seeping into her veins and taking control of every thought and impulse to lead her towards doom. Then Sombra’s lips parted and Hana pressed forward, eagerly welcoming her devastation.

Warmth laced with metal filled Hana’s mouth, the taste of Sombra dancing against her tongue only to quickly retreat.  The unmistakable shape of a smile bled into their kiss as the hacker repeated the movement again, glorying in each small frustrated noise that chased her fleeting touch. Hana tightened her grip on fistfuls of hair and rumpled fabric, determined to drag Sombra into her impatient need for more. Another teasing swipe and this time she struck back, taking control of the kiss like Sombra’s mouth was high ground on a battlefield. A heavenly moan vibrated onto her lips. Muscles beneath her hands turned into iron, wrapping around her tightly to mold their bodies even closer.

The growing heat between them traveled over her skin, tendrils that spread along every nerve pulsing in time with the pressure low in her belly. It felt like a fist squeezing her insides, tugging her forward, moving without permission to seek relief. Hana squirmed in Sombra’s arms, shamelessly pressing herself against the hacker. Gloved palms slid under the tight fabric of her miniskirt, squeezing the curves of her backside and pulling her into a rhythm that quickly had her whimpering into Sombra’s mouth.

There, _right_ there. Hana hooked one knee over the hacker’s waist, finding the perfect angle that sent jolts up her spine and made her fingers curl. Sombra’s body felt so right; warm, solid and swelling  . . .

An abrupt gasp broke their kiss, Hana peeling away from the hacker just enough to stare down. In the low light it was difficult for her eyes to translate what her body already knew. There was too much fabric in the way to see but a slow, deliberate roll of her hips offered undeniable proof in the flutter of Sombra’s lashes and hissed breath.

“Is that—?” Hana didn’t dare assume. There were too many possible explanations, and as her brain chaotically bounced off dozens of ideas she found each and every one enticing.

“Not an implant, _cariña._ ” Sombra seemed to read her mind, her eyes lazily crinkling up at the corners with a smile.

If it wasn’t a body modification that could only mean—Hana immediately snaked a hand between them, easily finding the thickening length despite layers of jacket and leggings. Oh, yes, very _definitely_ real. She could even feel the heat pulsing into her palm. Only cold air stinging her lips told Hana that her mouth was hanging open, mesmerized by the way Sombra’s body kept rising into her touch.

Silence dragged on, counted in skipping heartbeats until Hana realized that the hacker was waiting for a reaction. Looking up narrowed the whole world to lilac and kohl, Sombra’s eyes swallowing her gaze. Dark as secrets, glittering with games but shielded in armor and ice to protect the hint of a bruise Hana could see nestled deep within. Excitement, disgust, rejection—those beautiful eyes were armed and ready for anything but couldn’t hide a glimmer of doubt. The twinge in Hana’s ribs caught her by surprise, tender but iron strong.

“High score.” The awed, breathless murmur was pure reflex as she began to stroke softly, pulling the hacker back down to her lips. A sigh of relief slid into their kiss and Hana couldn’t tell if it was her or Sombra or both.

It had been so long since she’d taken anything more than fingers. And her own, at that. The girth and weight of flesh filling her hand promised so much more, capturing the attention of her entire body and stirring the warmth in her core to melt and flow. Her thighs trembled with the urge to buck and arch, to wrap around sleek muscles and _clench_ but there was too much damn clothing still in the way. Hana had at least dressed for a night out: skimpy top, fitted skirt and high heels that made it easy to kiss the tall woman she had pinned to the bar. Why the hell couldn’t Sombra have thought ahead too?

One hand played with the fastener on the front of the hacker’s jacket. Hana broke their kiss to ask but didn’t have to; all the permission she needed was right there, in blown irises swallowing the color from Sombra’s eyes. She tugged the material open, prying buckles away and peeling apart the long zipper that lay underneath like fire following a fuse. Her eyes widened with each new inch of skin revealed, delighted to discover the hacker was bare beneath the heavy coat. Perhaps she’d been thinking ahead after all?

The swell of Sombra’s breasts were the first revelation, full and mouthwatering as ripe fruit, dusky peaks pebbling in the open air. Her stomach was a line towards the inevitable, punctuated with the surprise of a purple jewel nestled in the dip of her navel, glinting like a wink. Only when the jacket fell completely open, sagging partway off slender shoulders, could Hana appreciate everything the hacker had to offer. The arousal tenting Sombra’s leggings seemed to rise even more under her gaze, begging for attention.  Instinct had Hana moving her fingers again, tracing over strained lycra to explore the size and feel and wondering just how the hell no one had known.

“The jacket,” Hana’s heavy breath caught on the realization. A noncommittal and confused whine was Sombra’s only response, hips rolling in protest of her distraction. The gamer’s lips quirked up, resuming casual strokes with the same torturous pleasure that purred on her tongue,

“This is why you always wear the jacket, isn’t it? To keep your secret? Must be difficult out there on the battlefield. Angela’s armor putting her assets on display. Tracer and Widowmaker  both running around in those skintight suits. It must get so _hard.”_ She emphasized the terrible joke with a deliberate squeeze that had Sombra arching off the bar.

Suddenly the floor dropped from under Hana, strong hands lifting her up. Sombra buried her face against dark hair and pale skin, kissing greedily and crossing the room in a few swift strides.

“The spider and honeybee are too caught up with each other,” Sombra corrected, bemused but impatient as she landed Hana solidly on a flat surface. _Table,_ the gamer’s subconscious absently supplied; the rest of her mind divided between the feel of Sombra pressed between her legs and the seductive voice in her ear. What happened to her headphones? Who the fuck cared when those lips were whispering again?

“Even if they weren’t,” Sombra kept driving her crazy with that low, raspy tone, “They’re not so much my type. _¿Pero tú_?” The hacker sucked in a deep breath, letting it out in a long, shaky exhale. “ _Me pones duro, conejita._ You make me ache.”

“Fuck, Sombra, please,” Hana groaned, helpless to control the want spiraling beyond her grasp. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“ _¿Si?_ Prove it.” Sombra’s lips stopped their torment, full and pouting but still so smug when she leaned back and raked her eyes over Hana’s flushed and needy face.

“Prove?” Brain cells in Hana’s head might as well have been a bad starfighter battle, flying haphazardly in every direction and bursting into flames the moment they collided with each other. Her only fixed thought was complaint when the heat and succor of Sombra’s body pulled away.

“I want to see you, _mi hermosa_.” Any mystery in the gentle demand was answered by fingers prying Hana’s hand loose from the bulge in Sombra’s tights and guiding her towards her own spread legs.

A blush crept up her cheeks when she realized the hacker’s intent, Sombra very deliberately dropping to her knees without losing Hana’s gaze. Gloved hands slid along her thighs, pushing the material of her skirt up and out of the way to reveal the girlish underwear beneath.  Bunnies, of course. And, if Sombra’s strangled moan was any indication, soaked through. Those amethyst eyes couldn’t tear away and the longer she stared the more Hana squirmed.

“Like you haven’t already seen,” she muttered, trying to reconcile awkward discomfort with shameless desperation. That darkened gaze reluctantly dragged back up to her face, confusion pushing past desire. The curious tilt of Sombra’s chin and one quirking brow were all the reply Hana needed and she felt her cheeks color even more.

“I thought,” the gamer stammered, now _truly_ embarrassed. “I assumed you’d hacked my face cam.”

Puzzlement faded from Sombra’s face, twisting into a wolfish grin instead. “And why would I do that, _conejita_? What would I have seen?”

Her breath was close enough that it made Hana’s thighs quiver and jump.

“How much I think about you,” she confessed, trembling to hold still when nails scraped over her hips and hooked into her underwear. The guilt and annoyance that had plagued her with every sinful dip of fingers between her legs vanished in the heat of Sombra’s eyes devouring her.  Emboldened by that greedy gaze she licked her lips and surrendered, “What I want you to do.”

“ _Madre de dios. Tu serás me muerte,_ ” Sombra’s words stuttered across her breath, eyes closed like she was blocking out pain. Then she was looking up at Hana once more, hungrier than ever and a bite of teeth in her rasping command, “Show me.”

Enhanced fingernails sliced through the skimpy strings of her thong and tore it away. Sombra balled the fabric in one fist, shoving it quickly into a pocket of her rumpled jacket before gliding both hands back up Hana’s legs.  Her touch drifted back and forth along pale thighs, never coming close to the swollen flesh all but weeping with desire.

Hana’s body understood the game before her mind caught up, fingers dipping to spread her folds and play through the wetness that immediately greeted her touch. The warmth in her core had blossomed into a welcoming furnace, slick and desperate for attention. The riveted fascination of Sombra’s eyes made her want to go slow, to drag out the torture for them both but need buckled her will and one finger sank eagerly into her waiting sex. Gritted teeth bit back her moan, only to hear it spill from Sombra’s lips instead.

She was dripping wet, ready for so much more than this teasing game. One finger quickly became two, spreading and twisting in anticipation of opening for Sombra. The hacker’s cascade of hair was tossed over her left thigh, a beautiful, messy abstract of lilac, copper and white. Soft lips trailed searing kisses up and down her skin, branding the tender inside of each thigh with purple marks while nimble hands kept Hana’s shaky knees from clamping tight.

Touching herself had never felt this intense; intimate and selfish but shared with another. Her own soft pants were nothing compared to the quickening breath from Sombra heating the back of her knuckles. Then it wasn’t just breath. Hana tensed with a startled cry when a clever tongue darted out to join her fingers, trailing all around her entrance to lap up arousal. The contrast of urgent thrusting and indulgent, slippery caresses was too much. Fingers tangled in a purple mane, wordlessly begging and Hana found herself falling into that bottomless gaze once more.

Those hypnotic eyes didn’t look away, only dancing with electrified delight when Hana felt the slick heat of Sombra’s tongue snaking between her knuckles to plunge into her with the next stroke. She couldn’t move; her fingers curling in a frenzy, trying to keep up with the play of that skilled touch driving her over the edge.  A barrage of curses and pleas tumbled from Hana’s lips, twisting her hand in Sombra’s hair when a last surge stole the breath from her lungs and dragged her unwilling muscles into an arch of pleasure confessed.

Sombra’s tongue played in and around her sex through the entire climax and well past any aftershocks, licking up spilled juices and even cleaning Hana’s fingers before surging to her feet. Circuitry and gloves caressed Hana’s face, tilting her up to welcome a steamy, wet kiss that set her barely calming heart back into a flurry.

Sombra’s body slotted perfectly between spread thighs and Hana rolled her hips, painting arousal over the bulge in those leggings. A mutter of Spanish brushed her cheek, trailing down her jaw and neck while hurried hands tugged at the waist of the hacker’s clothing. Taut fabric peeled away like a second skin, freeing Sombra’s length to twitch in the cool air and catch the light with a single bead of lust pearling on her tip. Hana wrapped her hand around the naked flesh, marveling at the heat of it, the thick pulse that echoed flutters of need in her core.

“Please tell me you’re safe,” Hana begged, not entirely certain she was capable of stopping even if the answer was no.

“Firewall and antivirus.” Sombra managed a playful wink, her eyes dancing at the giggle that slipped out with Hana’s sigh.

“Now we’re talking.” The petite gamer shifted her hips a fraction, sliding Sombra’s tip through her folds invitingly.

No more encouragement was needed, Sombra pressing into tight, slick flesh that wetly clung to her as it parted open. Hana fell back on one arm, teeth piercing her lower lip to hold the strained gasp caught in her throat. It had been such a long time and Sombra was—oh, _fuck_ —she was almost unbearable sinking in, pleasure at the cusp of pain as her muscles stretched.

“Stay with me, _cariña_.” Sombra’s throaty plea wreaked shivers through her, teeth and lips alternating across the tender skin of her neck until a full body tremor made Hana melt deeper into her new lover’s embrace.

One hand pinned her thigh to the table, the other wrapped firmly around her waist. The hold was controlled; commanding and possessive but unable to hide the gentle traces of concern. It made Hana’s heart ache from skipping too many beats and she fumbled for a grip on the hacker, desperate to lose herself in this woman. Her lips found Sombra’s in a messy kiss just before she felt the press of skin flush against her sex, a shaking sigh passing between them as they both savored the sensation.

Hana’s inner muscles rippled around thick heat, too full even to clench. Sombra’s first, experimental stroke made her hips roll, a lazy moan of pleasure drifting off her tongue. A second, harder thrust and her head fell back, throat arching to release a deeper cry. Sombra set a slow, torturous pace. Each plunging stroke forced another gasp from Hana’s lungs, broken notes of pleasure rising and falling in time with the rhythm of that swollen shaft stirring her depths.

Sparks filled her belly with every thrust, the molten heat pooled there spreading deeper and wider like rivers flooding a dam. Hana quailed in the threat of her all too quickly rushing peak, fisting Sombra’s open jacket to keep her close. She buried her face against chafing fabric, trying to focus on anything other than her rapidly shattering senses. All she could hear was Sombra’s labored breath and the wet sound of her own arousal between each percussive slap of flesh echoing off the walls.  The hacker’s skin was fire hot against her cheek and lips, copper and spice and melting circuits filling her mouth when she tried helplessly to stifle her whimpers.

A gentle vibration caught her ear, the sound of teasing laughter. Before Hana’s pride could sting Sombra had shifted the angle of her hips, grabbing one slender thigh and pushing the gamer’s knee up towards her chest to plunge even deeper on the next stroke. Pressure ground against her sex, just enough to hit the twitching bundle of nerves that instantly went stiff and sent pulsing jolts of pleasure into her core, spilling over to rush through the rest of her body.

Hana’s strength vanished in the throes of her second climax, arm collapsing as she went weak. The only thing that kept her from slamming back against the table was Sombra’s grip.  There was a shattering tenderness to the way those hands lowered her to rest against the flat of the table, the cool surface a welcome relief everywhere that it touched sweat-dampened skin.

The hacker was still hard inside her. A vague, survival-oriented instinct managed to rally into a fractured thought, telling Hana that Sombra wasn’t done. The gamer’s eyes flew open, muscles worn and trembling in the aftershocks but now acutely aware of the pounding pressure nestled deep between her thighs. She looked up at the other woman, a silhouette of night with violet lightning.

Fingers peeled away from where they’d left crescents on pale skin. Sombra’s brow quirked up playfully as she stripped off circuitry enhanced gloves and shrugged her jacket to the floor.  The clacking noise of sharp nails hitting the wood on either side of Hana’s head was every bit as predatory as the fanged smile that hovered into view.

“What is it you say, chica?” Sombra’s eyes flashed with dangerous glee, lowering herself until her entire body held Hana pinned to the table. “Game on?”

“Oh, _jotgatne!_ ” Realization slammed into the gamer in the same instant that Sombra began moving again, a far more punishing speed driving Hana into the unforgiving surface of the table. 

Even this— _fuck_ — _this_ was a game. Hana fought the cries that piled up in her throat with each thrust but it was hopeless; Sombra’s thickness pummeling her inner walls wrung out sounds she couldn’t contain.  There was no defense. Hana tangled her fingers in Sombra’s thick hair as a particularly intoxicating wave of pleasure devoured her senses but clung just as tightly to the fragile shape of an idea.

“Sombra. Fuck, Sombra, _please_ ,” Hana begged, the thrill licking up her spine equal parts Sombra’s erratic thrust and her own gloating pride. Time to play offense.

Two dull thumps announced Hana’s high heels falling off her feet, her legs circling a naked waist and tightening to draw Sombra even deeper. The hacker’s shallow breath grew ragged, lines marring her brow from the effort to keep control. One hand sank into the thick waves of Hana’s hair, pulling her up a fraction of an inch to meet a hungry kiss.  There was a delicious contrast in the feel of Sombra’s scalp beneath her fingers: luxuriant tresses and smooth, humming circuitry. Her fingernails on both tore an agonized, feminine grunt from the hacker and those thrusting hips jumped, skipping time and rushing ahead.

“ _Budi_ , Sombra, _yes_. _Naneun nega pil-yohae!_ ”  Hana arched and thrust up to meet the frantic strokes, tightening like a vise on the need she could feel pulsing in Sombra’s shaft. The way the hacker trembled and bucked with her every word was a dizzying power; ultimate weapon with limitless reload. Sombra’s mouth was panting for air but Hana could kiss up her throat and jaw, could find the tender point just below her ear and seal her lips to sear a mark.

“ _Dios, conejita, ¿Cómo haces esto?”_ Sombra gasped, head tossed back like the words had become prayer, hips falling out of rhythm and just driving in over and over again with animal desperation. _“Hermosa—_ Hana— _¡joder!_ ”

Sombra broke apart with a long shudder that racked her from head to toe, heat spilling from her cock in sudden, explosive bursts. Hana’s inner walls rippled violently as that thick release streamed inside her, the pure elation of victory tipping over into a physical swell of euphoria, breaking her voice in the middle of a triumphant cry. She quaked beneath Sombra, trembling like a spent spring as her body clung to every last moment of pleasure.

Sombra collapsed against her, helpless and panting. Her hips slowed to lazy thrusts trying to sate the greed of Hana’s milking heat. For several long minutes neither of them could speak, resting against each other in the breathless aftermath.  Hana wasn’t sure when Sombra’s fingers had threaded with her own, or when the hacker had started tenderly nuzzling her cheek but she knew she never wanted either to stop.

“That’s three to one, _chiquita,_ ” Sombra’s lips played over the sensitive edge of her ear, trailing kisses and the sharp nip of teeth. “I win.”

“If you say so.” Hana felt a happy swell of laughter rising in her chest and buried it in another lingering kiss.

She combed her fingers gently through messy hair, pushing it away from a heart shaped face to graze her thumb against one cheek. A familiar shade of pink was smudged on the hacker’s skin, filling Hana with an oddly satisfied sense of pride. Sombra was beautiful in any given moment. But now, like this? With her flushed face, dark eyes and swollen lips all confessing untamed pleasure? She was everything Hana could ever want to see.

“I’m going to want a rematch.” Hana let her ego cover any other emotion, trusting Sombra would hear the unspoken desire beneath.

“Anytime, _amiga._ You just tell me where and when.” Sombra grinned, pushing herself up on her arms to begin disentangling from the smaller woman’s clutches.

“Here. Tonight.” Hana caught Sombra’s face in both hands, holding her firmly in place with a wicked smile plucking the corners of her lips. “You just tell me when you’re ready.”

“ _Mierda_ , _hermosa._ You really will be the death of me,” Sombra groaned softly but surrendered all too willingly back into Hana’s embrace.

\---

_You should’ve seen it! Hana was heading out all chav-ed up and 76 about did his nut!_

**If you insist on talking like that I will return to speaking French, _cheríe._**

_Sorry! Just meant she walked out of here looking like she hoped a stranger would follow her into the loo for a shag in the stalls._

**You would be the expert on that, wouldn’t you?**

_Oi! There’s a big difference between that and the sink tops! Way more hygienic for a start._

**If you say so. I’m already wondering what I might do to lure you into an ‘unhygienic’ stall.**

_Please don’t, love. You already know you can get your way with me anyhow you like, let’s not go adding that to the list._

The noise of a door opening startled Lena away from her phone, dragging her attention up long enough to clock Hana stumbling in. Well, not quite stumbling but not exactly moving right either. The pain of high heels alone wasn’t enough to explain that sore, awkward walk.

No one looks their best when they come in at 3am after a night out. But the petite Korean managed to look all at once better and worse than when she’d left. Most of her makeup was sweated off, wrinkled clothes matching her blatantly molested hair. She was damn near glowing and there was no mistaking that dazed smile. Tracer had to bite her cheek to keep from grinning too wide as Hana went straight to her bed and folded herself in the sheets without even taking off her clothes.

_Bloody hell, love. You should see her now. She’s definitely had it off._

**That is interesting. .  .**

Widowmaker didn’t usually pause for dramatic effect over SMS, but this time Tracer could sense the Frenchwoman enjoying her sadistic little flourish.

**Because Sombra looks about the same.**

_Oh, bollocks._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: I'm not trying to be confusing or dismissive in my tags - I know that trans is different than g!p and definitely don't want to offend people in a community that gets beat up enough. I used the multiple tags because I wanted to leave Sombra open to reader interpretation. For this story the hows and whys don't matter as much as what happens next. 
> 
> My sincerest thanks to anyone who took some time to read this work and hopefully you enjoyed it like I did. Slobbering gratitude also to those of you who've kept me encouraged and focused with comments and general OW fan chat.


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